Freedom Fighter


Who will fight for me? With balled fists and hoarse throats? For my restless spirit, my tired smile. Who will wake every morning and tend to my bruised heart; whispering reassurances across its weakened valves, pushing blood to my cold fingers and toes. Who everyday remind me of what I deserve; spinning a fairy tale web of my prince over the horizon? Who will issue me my badges of honor for fighting valiantly through every heartbreak? Who will work tirelessly to put together my sharp jigsaw puzzle pieces with darting eyes and bloodied fingers? I will; quietly and reluctantly. Trying hard to forget that this isn’t the first time. I would rather leave them broken and irreparable. If stay brokenhearted there can be no heart to break. I paint the picket signs and hang the barbed wire you crawled through to get here. I refill the moat with unimaginable bloodthirsty beasts. An inevitable enterprise, an exercise in futility. I undo myself each night. Unlock the doors and crack the windows, let you in every time. Faceless invader with big hands and kind smile. Rob me. Take everything. My love is not for me. A renewable resource. My threshold so high that I sweeten my tears with coffee. I will fight, and I will lose. perforated armor and empty grenades. I will fight for me, and I will lose with all my heart.

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Roze Goes

When Roze first went in 2012,  it was kind of like a journal ... that other people could read. Embarassing. But I'm realizing that my voice, my experiences, my representation and narrative are valuable. There's room enough for me too. My talents and interests. My time is now. Roze

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